


Wander Under Starry Skies

by ZombiesAreGarbageAtKnitting



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, Romance, Welcome to the Wild West, a marshal, an outlaw, everyone's either a sheriff, kranna au, or a preacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:21:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27908911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombiesAreGarbageAtKnitting/pseuds/ZombiesAreGarbageAtKnitting
Summary: Out in the west, sheriffs hide behind badges and preachers hide behind crosses.But outlaws, like them? Had nothing to hide behind but the barrel of a gun.
Relationships: Anna/Kratos Aurion, Yuan Ka-Fai/Martel Yggdrasill
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...do you guys remember about a year ago, when Tales of Asteria put out Western-style costumes? And Lloyd and Colette were adorable little cowpokes with guns?  
> I was inspired to write a Kranna AU from that, but I only ever wrote bits and pieces. I recently found it in my WIP folder and...  
> Yeah. Here you go.
> 
> (I've lost control of my life.)

_ Thank you, Jack Daniel’s Old Number Seven  
_ _ Tennessee whiskey got me drinking in heaven  
_ _ Angels start to look good to me  
_ _ They’re gonna have to deport me to the fiery deep _

_ \-- “Old Number 7,” by The Devil Makes Three -- _

* * *

When the wanted posters were first printed, most of the deputies thought she was a pretty little thing. Chestnut brown hair, a twisted smirk, sultry dark eyes. They all seemed to be captivated by her beauty.

But out here in the desert, the most beautiful flowers were the most dangerous.

Kvar spat into the cracked dirt and growled at the dead bodies that lay at his feet. Three of them, each with a single shot to the head, each with a perfectly formed, bright red lipstick mark on their cheeks. Fools, the whole lot of them. How many times had he warned his deputies  _ not _ to get distracted?

“Is it her work, sheriff?” One of his men came up, spurs spinning in the dust. Kvar made a noise in his throat and glared at the deputy.

“Of course it is,” he snapped. He ran his hands along his leather vest and fiddled with the star-shaped badge on his chest. The symbol of his superiority, his authority, his power. “Accursed woman...she can’t be far.”

He spun around and mounted his horse, a gray beast he’d trained for years with a whip. “Gather a posse. Go search the town for her, she’d have to stop for supplies.”

The deputy nearest him repeated the order to the others, rounding them into a circle and leading them off and away towards the town. Kvar turned his horse around as a few of his men began to haul the bodies of their fallen deputies into the wagon nearby.

Kvar pulled the wanted poster out of his saddlebag and unfolded it. There she was, glaring up at him with fire in her eyes. Daring him to catch her again. He crumpled it up and threw it into the wagon with the dead men, before digging his spurs into the horse and taking off for the town.

He’d find her, alright. No matter what it took.

___________________

By the time Kvar found his deputies in their final resting place, Anna Irving was already 10 miles away, walking towards Luin with a smile on her face.

It hadn’t really been difficult; once she figured out the deputies’ routes, all it took was patience and good aim. And she had both in spades.

Unfortunately, what she didn’t have was a horse.

Ah, well. She’d have to pick one up in town. She didn’t particularly like the idea of heading back to Luin; after all, Kvar was sure to search his own town for her first. But she wouldn’t get much farther without a horse to ride and some food to eat. She'd looted the deputies' corpses before she left them; dead men had no use for money, and she'd certainly earned it.

The road to Luin was a dusty, dirt path that had been cleared of the wild desert growth. Anna could see the echoes of hoofprints and wagon wheel tracks dug in the ground. When she glanced back, she could see the fresh footprints from her own boots, following her all the way.

She passed by the familiar signpost that marked two miles to Luin. Passerby had scrawled words of scripture over it, covering it until it was nearly unreadable.

_ the goddess will save you _

_ Repent sinners! _

_ Purify your soul in the heavenly light. _

Anna shook her head at the words, but she didn’t have time to waste thinking about crazy cultists. Instead, she fiddled with the guns on her hip and looked behind her.

She quickened her pace. Last thing she wanted was the sheriff’s posse catching up to her. 

* * *

“Starstealer, huh? That’s the name you’re going with?”

The man shook his whiskey glass, the ice clinking against the sides, and took a sip. His feet were perched on his desk, the boots settled right next to a nameplate emblazoned with his name and title.

_ Lawful Marshal Yuan Ka-Fai _

The Marshal’s office was in Asgard, but he was rarely there anymore. He was too busy running around, shouting at various sheriffs about their various wrong-doings. He never got the opportunity to sit in his office and drink.

And never with such illustrious company, he thought wryly.

Across from him, Kratos made a noise in his throat and drank his own whiskey. “I didn’t pick the name.”

Both men stared at the wanted poster that hung on the wall of Yuan’s office. It was an older picture, one from Kratos’ military days. Before he’d even been a sheriff, let alone a marshal himself. Quite a price on his old friend’s head, though the poster _ did _ say he was wanted alive.

“Hmm...Starstealer. It suits you.” Yuan took another drink and sighed. “But I’m drunk, so take it with a grain of salt.”

Kratos blinked at Yuan in concern. “You look tired,” he said. Indeed, Yuan was looking a bit rough around the edges. His blue hair was tied in a loose braid under his hat; he had dark circles under his eyes. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“No.” Yuan shrugged when Kratos balked. “Did you expect me to lie? I haven’t been sleeping well. This job...it’s getting to me.”

“Want to talk about it?” Kratos was an honorable man, a kind man. The name “Starstealer” might fit him, but the man behind it, the man accused of murder, didn’t. “It can help to get it out.”

“...Prisoners forced into hard labor. Arrest records disappearing.” Yuan swirled his whiskey in the glass, watching it cling to the sides. “The sheriffs play dumb when I ask questions.” He turned slowly to Kratos. “How do I fight the bad guys when they work for me?”

“Quit.” Kratos drained the rest of his whiskey and held the glass out for more. “Become an outlaw. Kill the sheriffs.”

They were quiet, neither wanting to decipher if Kratos had just told a joke or if he was serious. Yuan poured another glass for his friend, who nodded his thanks. 

“The whole system’s rotten,” Yuan said with a sigh. “To the core.”

“That’s why I left.” Kratos took another drink. “My conscience wouldn’t allow it. And, I’ll admit, it’s nice not to have to deal with Yggdrasill anymore.”

“Lucky you," Yuan said tartly. "Never thought that little punk would try to bully me.”

“Since when have you ever been one to be bullied?” Kratos asked with a smirk.

“Since never. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t try.” 

They were silent again. Kratos’ eyes fell on the photograph Yuan kept on his desk, old and faded. A man, his best friend, his bride, and her brother. Kratos never would’ve imagined they were here now, thinking back to that day. Yuan caught him looking, but said nothing.

Kratos glanced at the clock on the wall. “I better get going. I want to be in Luin by nightfall.”

“Going after Kvar?” Yuan asked casually.

He’d never asked if Kratos was guilty of what he was accused of. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Otherwise, he’d have to explain why he was sharing a drink with the murderer instead of arresting him.

Kratos raised an eyebrow. “Now, Yuan,” he said with mock sweetness. “That’s ridiculous. I’m just going to enjoy the scenery of the town.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard they got a new tumbleweed.” Yuan watched as Kratos pulled on his long coat and picked up his hat. “Well, I give you my best, Starstealer.”

Kratos gently settled his hat onto his head and shifted the rifle at his waist. “Save your best for yourself, Yuan. You probably need it more.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having too much fun writing this AU. Cheers!

_Dancin’ on cold feet,  
_ _Marchin’ on cobblestreet  
_ _Oh, sinners, come down,  
_ _Yeah, yeah, yeah_

_\-- “Sinners,” by Barns Courtney --_

* * *

Luin was called “the City of Hope.”

It was most definitely a place of great beauty; Kratos could understand why so many flocked to it. In the half-light of the sunset, Lake Sinoa sparkled like a bed of diamonds. The town was settled on the very edge of the lake, with bridges crossing over the shallow shore.

There weren’t many people around; it seemed that the town quieted down in the evening. There was a woman sweeping the porch of the inn, and a few children running for home. Most unsettlingly, there were no deputies around.

“...Let’s go, boy,” he said quietly. Beneath him, Noishe whinnied and they headed for town. “We’ll be quick, I promise.”

The entrance to the city was a creaky wooden bridge over the lake. The first house Kratos passed was a little cabin-like building. On the wooden porch sat an old man in a rocking chair, watching with keen eyes.

“...Evenin’.”

Kratos nodded, but tried to keep his face down. “Good evening, sir.”

The old man had a pipe in his mouth, smoke floating above his lips. “You seem a traveller. Lookin’ for someone?”

“Just passing through.” Kratos nudged Noishe’s sides and he headed farther towards town. He didn’t much like the way this old man seemed to see through him. Indeed, the old man narrowed his eyes and leaned forward a bit. He took a drag from his pipe and blew a puff of smoke out.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Marshal.”

Kratos whipped his head around. It had been years since he’d heard anyone call him by his former title. “Excuse me? I think you have me confused for someone else.”

“I remember you,” the old man continued. “I been here since the founding of Luin. Came as a miner, diggin’ for gold. I remember a few years ago, how you used to command all the sheriffs in this part of the county. Then they hired these new men to run the law and now we got slave-drivers hidin’ behind a badge.”

“You are confused, old man.” Kratos’ tone turned harsher, more insulting, but the man just gave a raspy laugh. “I am not the man you think I am.”

“Please. I never forget a face,” he replied. “Anyways, I reckon you won’t be in town long. If you lookin’ for Sheriff Kvar, he ain’t here. Never really is, these days. ‘Course, that’s a bit of blessing, tell you the truth. You wanna find him, you’ll head to the mountains.”

Kratos didn’t reply, instead staring out over the town. Why wasn’t Kvar there? Whenever Kratos had been a sheriff, he’d spent most of his time patrolling the town itself. 

So what was Kvar doing outside Luin?

The old man took another long drag from his pipe. “Yep,” he wheezed. “This place ain’t the same anymore. Maybe we need some lawlessness to remind us of righteousness. Good luck there, Marshal.” He gave a dry laugh. “Or, should I say, Starstealer.”

With that, the old man stood up and shuffled into his house. Kratos glanced over towards the center of Luin.

“...C’mon,” he muttered, leading Noishe there. “Let’s check it out.”

* * *

Luin had always been a cheerful, welcoming town. Anna remembered it, even after all these years away. Over there, she spotted the general store, and down the main street was the tavern she’d spent half her youth trying to sneak into. And, of course, the lake she’d swam in almost every day of her life.

Of course, Anna thought bitterly, that was before Kvar became sheriff. Before folks started getting carted off like cattle. She stared at the tattoo that was etched on the inside of her arm: _A012_. She clenched her knuckles and pulled her sleeve down over the brand.

It still stung, those days from not so long ago, when she’d had to toil herself half to death. Driving spikes and laying track in the dirt, rocks falling over her head and shoulders. Hours in the sun and heat with no water and rotten vegetables as a meal. Cave-ins and sickness and beatings. Bodies burned in a pit, because graves took too long to dig.

Just the memory made her sick. 

Her spurs spun as she walked through town, her guns heavy against her sides. It was nearing sundown now; there was no one outside, save for an elderly man on his rocking chair and a young girl sweeping the porch. Anna nodded silently to both of them and headed towards the general store. Three boys ran past her, pretending to shoot each other.

She couldn’t stay in Luin long. It was dangerous, almost foolishly so, to remain here. She was just going to grab some provisions, steal a horse, and get the hell out of town. She pulled the brim of her hat down over her brow, shielding her face from prying eyes.

The general store was a cozy shop, if “cozy” meant “packed tighter than sardines in a tin.” The bell rang over her head and the clerk, an old man with white hair and thick glasses, glared suspiciously at her. 

The place was crammed full of various goods: bags of rice and wheat, tins full of oil and balm, crates full of dried fruit. She leaned over the barrel full of beans and frowned.

“You need some help, miss?” The clerk nodded in her direction, still suspicious. She removed her hat and set it on the counter, a sign of trust out here. The man nodded, a bit more relaxed. “Or just looking?”

“You got jerky?” she asked. He reached below the counter and brought a box full of dried meat. She examined it closely and wrinkled her nose. “...Looks old.”

“It ain’t new.” The clerk pushed his glasses up his nose. “It’s jerky, miss, it ain’t gettin’ younger. Do you want it or not?”

So much for the kind, welcoming memories of her youth. “A pound. And a pound of the kidneys,” she added, gesturing to the barrel. The clerk nodded and made a note on a pad as she filled an old tin with beans.

“What else?” he asked gruffly.

“Biscuits. _Fresh_ biscuits,” Anna added. “I ain’t payin’ for crumbs.”

He dropped a few wrapped biscuits on the counter next to the rest. Anna looked at them, satisfied they were fresh, before she continued, “Two bottles of whiskey.”

The clerk stopped. “And what would a girly like you want with whiskey?”

Anna leaned forward, annoyed. “I thought I’d clean my privates with it,” she snapped. “I’m gonna drink it, you damned fool. Two bottles.”

He set the bottles up and jotted the price down. Anna spotted a small box of bullets and pointed. “Need a box of ammunition, too. .44, for a Model 3.”

The clerk hesitated, then shook his head. “You’ll have to go to the smith for that. I don’t sell ammunition to ladies.”

“Good thing I ain’t no lady.” The clerk’s face soured, but he clearly didn’t want to argue. He set the box of bullets on the counter and Anna nodded approvingly. “Last thing, I need some lipstick. Give me Sally’s brand, red.”

The clerk looked confused. “What you need it for?”

“Make my privates look nice.” She tapped her lips. “It’s lipstick!”

He took a tube from behind the counter and set it down. “40 gald.” Anna pulled out a pouch and gave him a handful of coins. The clerk took them and counted them. “...Short two.”

She gave him two more and gathered her items. “You’re paid. Good evening, sir.”

“You, too, miss.” The man was squinting at her, as if he knew her. “Er...you don’t belong to one of those houses down the way, do you? The ladies boarding house?”

“You mean the brothel?” Anna rolled her eyes as the clerk blushed. “No, I’m a traveller.”

“...I swear I seen you before,” he said. Anna quickly turned away, heart racing. She pulled her hat back onto her head as the shopkeeper continued. “You ever pass through Luin?”

“Nope. Safe evenin’” She was out the door as fast as possible, the bell ringing in her ears. She swallowed and fiddled with her guns.

She moved swiftly through town, glancing back. She was being paranoid, she told herself. No way that old man recognized her. He was confused, or stupid, or both. Maybe he thought she was a whore, not a killer.

She headed for the entrance to town, where the wanted board stood. Beside it, there was a trough and post for travellers’ horses. She eyed the two horses that were tied up there, trying to decide which one to take. 

Her eyes, however, were caught by the wanted posters. Checking to see that no one was around, she stopped and examined the board.

They never could manage to get her face right, Anna thought. Always drew her nose a little too straight, her lips a little too upturned. Still, the picture was enough that someone might recognize her face.

Like a nosy shopkeep.

Hoofbeats spurred her into movement. She quickly ducked behind the board, peering towards the sounds. No posse, to her relief; just a lone cowboy riding into town. He slowed his horse at the post nearby and slid off it.

“Good boy,” he said in a low voice. He didn’t tie the horse to the post, Anna noticed, instead just letting it stand free. “I don’t think he’s here, but be ready in any case.”

The horse whinnied as the man walked away. Anna watched him go, a grin lingering on her face.

That took care of the horse issue.

“Nice of him to make it easy on me,” she said, dashing out from behind the board. She pet the horse along its face. He whined and leaned against her hand. “Hey, horsie. Wanna go for a ride?”

It was the strangest horse she’d ever seen. He had a pure white coat, though his mane and tail were a pale green. His eyes were dark and deep in an almost intelligent way. He seemed to have a gentle temperament: when Anna ran her fingers through is mane, he closed his eyes and whined as if he enjoyed it.

“There we go.” She climbed up onto the saddle. Interestingly enough, the horse didn’t appear to have a bridle or reins. She frowned. “How’s your rider steer you…?”

She nudged her spurs into the horse’s side. He whinnied and shook his head, like he was annoyed at her. But he didn’t move, like most horses did.

The cowboy must have his horse well-trained, Anna thought. The animal didn’t move an inch, even when she tugged on the mane. No wonder he didn’t think anything of leaving the horse untied.

“Fine, then.” Anna slid off the horse. If he wouldn’t move, she didn’t have time to fight with him. Instead, she turned to one of the other horses and untied it. Before she mounted it, she turned back with a grin. “...Let’s see what else your master keeps on him, shall we?”

She reached for the saddle bag that hung on the cowboy’s horse. She felt a bit guilty: here was this poor man stopping in town for a drink, and she was about to rob him blind.

But she pushed the guilt down. If nothing else, Anna Irving was a survivor, and nothing like guilt would allow her to lay down and die.

The saddlebag didn’t have much in it. A half-empty bottle of whiskey, a tin full of coffee, another full of beans. No money, much to her annoyance. Then her hand brushed against flat, cold metal.

A lockbox? She pulled it out and examined it. As she tilted it in her hands, something rattled around. Sounded like metal, she thought, but no way to be sure. Ten minutes and a hairpin and she could pick the lock…

She craned her neck to look around. With no sign of the man, she slipped the lockbox into her satchel. The horse whined in what sounded like all-too-human indignation. 

“What?” she snapped. “Don’t judge me. You’re a horse.”

The horse made a noise again, but she ignored him. She slung her satchel over her shoulder and mounted the other horse. As she adjusted the saddle, she spotted the cowboy returning. 

Was it just her imagination, or did he look familiar? Anna couldn’t get a good look at him; if he recognized _her_ face, she was in a mess of trouble. She turned her head and adjusted her hat over her face.

“No luck, Noishe.” The man spotted her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him tip his hat. “Miss.”

“Evenin’, sir.” She kept her head down, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t seem terribly interested in her.

The man swung onto his horse with a single smooth movement. He patted the horse’s neck. “Let’s go, boy.”

To both of their surprise, the horse didn’t move. He simply whinnied in protest. The man frowned and said sharply, “We have no time to dawdle.”

Another protesting whine, but then they were gone, trotting off to the exit. Anna waited for a few minutes, until his silhouette had disappeared. Satisfied that he was a decent distance away, she started to leave town herself, the lockbox rattling in the saddlebag.

* * *

Something was wrong.

Kratos couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something...off. Something missing.

It was getting dark. Normally, Kratos found comfort in the bright stars against the night sky. However, he felt uneasy as he led Noishe away from Luin. He’d find a place to set up camp for the night, near the bluffs a few miles away. 

Kratos spotted another riding coming towards him. He didn’t recognize the man, but he did recognize what he was wearing. A silver star pinned to his chest, shining in the darkness.

One of Kvar’s deputies.

The man came up to Kratos, who kept one hand on his rifle. It was strapped to Noishe’s saddle, for easy access. Just in case. 

“You there!” the deputy barked. “I’m on a mission for Sheriff Kvar. Lookin’ for a wanted criminal, name of…”

The deputy trailed off as he met Kratos’ gaze. His face went from a determined sort of pride to fear in a second. “You’re—!”

Kratos flipped his rifle up and had a shot off before the deputy finished his sentence. The bullet hit his chest, sending the man toppling off his horse. The horse took off; the deputy’s body lay in the dirt, blood pooling beneath it.

Kratos slid off Noishe and approached the body. He reached down and tore the star-shaped badge from his chest. 

It might not be Kvar, he thought wryly, but it would do. After all, Kvar’s deputies were no better than Kvar himself. Kratos twirled the badge in his fingers absent-mindedly as he opened his saddlebag. He reached inside for the familiar feel of smooth steel. 

His hand hit the bottom of the saddlebag and he froze.

The lockbox was gone.

_The lockbox was gone._


End file.
